Colors Insulting to Nature: A Novel

Colors Insulting to Nature: A Novel

4.0 2
by Cintra Wilson

View All Available Formats & Editions

Look deep into your heart, Gentle Reader. Deep, deep, deep; past your desire for true love, for inexhaustible riches or uncontested sexual championship, for the ability to fight crime and restore peace to a weary world. Underneath all this, if you are a true, red-blooded American, you'll find the throbbing desire to be famous.

Liza Normal wants fame worse than


Look deep into your heart, Gentle Reader. Deep, deep, deep; past your desire for true love, for inexhaustible riches or uncontested sexual championship, for the ability to fight crime and restore peace to a weary world. Underneath all this, if you are a true, red-blooded American, you'll find the throbbing desire to be famous.

Liza Normal wants fame worse than air, food, sleep, or self-preservation. Her talents are slim, but she's been raised on a crash diet of Hollywood "I-can-do-it!" mythology, game-show anthems, and Love's Baby Soft–scented teen dreams. According to the delusional logic inherent in these value-starved sources, the key to Making It Big as a pop star is to simply want it badly enough and Believe in Yourself (and to follow the B-movie template for becoming one of life's golden winners — see page 20). And so, innocent Liza's disco-ball fantasies are bowled down the yellow brick road, on a direct collision course with that whirling hall of hammers: Reality. She endures a wretched series of mishaps on the road to failure: disastrous love affairs, scorching humiliations. But Liza, a far better human than the two-dimensional starlet she thinks she wants to be, is indestructible.

In Colors Insulting to Nature, Cintra Wilson has fused ahilarious yet strangely touching coming-of-age story with a blistering satire of our celebrity-debased culture. In a world where unknowns compete to wear their ethical pants around their ankles on TV, where actors become presidents and plucky American Idols claw their way to stardom over the corpses of the dreams of a million wishful losers, Colors Insulting to Nature shocks us into seeing ourselves as we truly are, not as we think we look when we make that French pout face in the mirror. Not since John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces, Martin Amis's Money, or, yes, Rabelais's Gargantua and Pantagruel has an antihero peeled away the lamination of our society with such savage glee and empathy. Laugh, cry, cringe with self-recognition: Colors Insulting to Nature is a brilliant achievement.

Editorial Reviews

Harper's Bazaar
“Hilarious…You’ll wince at Liza’s outlandish humiliations along the way, but it won’t stop you from laughing out loud.”
Us Weekly
“Hysterical…[Colors Insulting to Nature] takes us on a wacky trip to the heart of our celebrity-obsessed culture.”
“A send-up of the celebrity obsessed by the woman who wrote the book on fame.”
“Wilson cranks out the zingers.”
San Francisco Chronicle
“A first novel from the Dorothy Parker of the Cyber Age.”
The Oregonian (Portland)
“Riotous and harrowing … an impressive, maybe even great, comic novel.”
New York Times Book Review
“Cintra Wilson [is] the thinking woman’s David Foster Wallace...with the most action packed sentences in the biz.”
Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers
Cintra Wilson has been deemed "a force of nature" and "arresting" by her fellow writers and performers alike, and in her first novel, Colors Insulting to Nature, she introduces a pertinacious Everygirl: Liza Normal, a teenager of talents exquisitely inconsequential and comically unfortunate. The unreachably celestial ambitions of the Normal family have failed to prepare Liza for her 15-minute birthright, let alone superstardom. And her indefatigable mediocrity (spawned at the wading end of an overchlorinated gene pool) seems intent on propelling her toward a life of invariable humiliation and gloriously tragicomic failure.

What Liza does have going for her is the unshakable perseverance of a Gong Show contestant, combined with the sort of resiliency evolution has bestowed to the cockroach. And she'll need both if she is to survive the brutality of an ever-failing, fame-at-any-price quest through the seediest sections of show business for the exceedingly desperate. Wilson's own talent for satire proves a satisfying feast; her sarcastic depiction of pop culture's insatiable fame-lust reveals that hollow, pornographic world for what it is. An explosive literary debut fueled by a cast of ingeniously drawn characters and a no-holds-barred, sardonic humor, this debut novel is sure to make a splash. (Fall 2004 Selection)

Publishers Weekly
Playwright and Salon columnist Wilson made a name for herself four years ago with her essay collection, A Massive Swelling. In her raucous, hilarious debut novel, she covers similar ground: the ugly side of fame and America's unhealthy obsession with celebrity. The dark Gen-X fairy tale follows the adventures of Liza Normal, a would-be starlet with far more ambition than looks or talent. Saddled with a frightening stage mother, Peppy, Liza-"not a girl ruled by the logic of self-preservation"-endures humiliation after humiliation as she acts in an unintentionally campy family musical, turns punk, dates a drug dealer and a washed-up boy band member, goes to rehab and tries unsuccessfully to make it big in Hollywood. The indefatigable Liza finally triumphs in Las Vegas, creating a stage show based on a character from the softcore slash fiction she's written throughout her travails. Wilson goes out on a limb with her verbal extravagance, and readers may find her post-Eggers postmodern asides to the audience (whom she calls "Young Readerlings") and fancy fonts a bit too-too. But her spirited sendup of celebrity worship is laugh-out-loud funny. Agent, Bill Clegg. (Aug. 13) Forecast: Wilson's public persona is as flamboyant as her writing, and the novel should garner plenty of media attention, though it may be a more challenging sell than A Massive Swelling. Five-city author tour. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Fresh from cult success with the essay collection A Massive Swelling: Celebrity Re-examined as a Grotesque, Crippling Disease, columnist Wilson delivers a related first novel. Colors follows Liza Normal from her first excruciating pop star auditions under the guidance of her ambitious mother, Peppy, to her realization that success has many guises, most of which are not found in Hollywood. This formula fits her brother, Ned, a reclusive artist who inadvertently gains fame, and Peppy, whose disastrous forays into theater and men finally work out. Like Blake Nelson's Girl, this work is a giddy and poignant crash course in growing up, complete with sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. Wilson has a loose and overstated writing style, which when she maintains the novel's breakneck speed has hilarious and clever results. Ironically, it is when she reverts to her essayist self, inserting her own voice and lengthy exegeses on pop cultural landmarks, that the pace lags. In those ponderous moments we almost lose sight of our quirky heroine, who (refreshingly) is anything but. Recommended for most collections. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 2/1/04.]-Prudence Peiffer, Cambridge, MA Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Overwrought debut of a teenager's messy attempts to achieve showbiz celebrity. Wilson has debunked the cult of celebrity before, in her equally overwrought essay collection A Massive Swelling (2000). Here, the prime culprit is Peppy Normal, whose showbiz aspirations haven't taken her beyond a topless juggling act in Reno. The movie Fame is an eye-opener, and Peppy's mission now is to propel her two kids to stardom. Ned proves a lost cause but Liza is more malleable, though hardly more talented. We first see her looking like an "underage sex-clown" as she auditions for a TV commercial. It's the early 1980s, and Peppy has moved the family into an abandoned firehouse in the Bay Area, ideal for amateur theatricals-the opening production of Sound of Music is so abysmal it becomes a camp hit. Meanwhile, Liza, loud, unstable and seriously uncool, is struggling with high school. Early on, she will willingly lose her virginity to her classroom tormentor in a supply closet. Wilson's idea is to put Liza through the wringer, and she does it in prose that lurches from one gaudy hyperbole to another. Liza develops a monster-size crush on ChoCho, a Superfly drug dealer who might, in her addled judgment, be her stairway to the stars. Even though she drops out, the scenes she moves on to are high school writ large: drugs, cliques, insecurities. That goes both for the Haight, where she has a bad acid trip while living with would-be elves, and for Tinseltown, where she betrays her friends and tries to kill herself (like Peppy, years before). Her lack of autonomy might not matter if Wilson brought a fresh eye to these familiar venues, but she really doesn't. She does ease up on Liza, however, allowing her asuccessful act in Vegas as "an icon of camp depravity."Wilson's ambition to be a memorable satirist of pop culture is thwarted by her high-decibel prose: she needs to bring the volume down, way down.

Product Details

HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
6.12(w) x 9.00(h) x 1.17(d)

Read an Excerpt

Colors Insulting to Nature
A Novel

Part I: Are You There, God? It's Me, Liza

July 23, 1981, Novato,CA

The faces of the judges revealed, although they were trying to hide it, deep distaste for the fact that the thirteen-year- old girl in front of them had plucked eyebrows and false eyelashes. Something about her well-worn miniature stiletto heels and her backless black evening dress—side slit up to the fishnet hip, with rhinestone spaghetti straps—was unsavory to them. The girl looked way too comfortable. Equally unsettling was her performance.

". . . and now, I'd like to perform a little something by someone who has been a huge influence on my work. This lady has the most incredible pipes in the business. I'm speaking, of course, of Ms. Barbra Streisand. Vincent?" she asked, addressing the horrified pianist, who was busying himself with the mosaic of colorful buttons on his Yamaha DX-7 that promised such sounds as "oboe" and "tympani."

"Could you give me 'Clear Day' in F, sugar? You're too good to me." The child took the microphone and Cher-ishly flipped back a long strand of zigzag crimped hair with fuchsia fingernails as the pianist rolled into the opening bars. Her vibrato, though untrained (learned, most likely, by imitating ecstatic car commercials) was as tight, small, and regular as the teeth on pinking shears.

"On a Cleee-yah Daaaaaaaaaaayy T'Wheel Asssssh-TOUNDYewww . . . thank you," she spoke, as if the judges had just broken into spontaneous applause.

The mother, visible mouthing the lyrics from the wings in an exaggerated fashion, was clearly responsible for this travesty, this premature piano-bar veteran of a youngster.

"Yew can sheeeee Fah-REVAH, ond EVAH."

The moderately talented girl was emoting with her hands, seemingly tweezing the adult male heart out of its sexual prison with her kitten claws, all too professionally. The judges squirmed in their seats, intensely disliking the thought of their own daughters or nieces belting out a song in this seamy, overwrought fashion—parroting the stage acts of overripe chanteuses, moist with the rot of numerous alcoholic disappointments in both Love and Life. The mother would probably be devastated if her child didn't land the gig . . . she might, in fact, lock herself in an all-peach-colored bedroom and wash down handfuls of muscle relaxants with cheap Polish vodka from a plastic handle–jug; her unfortunate daughter would be left for days without milk and forced to eat lipstick. It was this thought that brought large grimaces of feigned appreciation to the faces of the judges as the girl collapsed into the bow as if she'd just wrung every drop of hot life out of herself and was now utterly spent. She blew a few kisses toward the judges and urged them to "give themselves a hand."

The mother, whose diaphanous, mango-colored pantsuit was trumped in visual loudness only by the Louis IV–style stack of conical curls on her strawberry-blonde wig, came forward and shook the girl playfully.

"Say goodbye to the nice judges, Liza," she mewed.

"Goodbye to the nice judges, Liza," the girl cracked, with a wink.

"Go outside and amuse yourself while Mommy talks grown-up-talk."

Liza pouted theatrically, then waved bye-bye to the group of middle-aged men as she wobbled on her heels out of the conference room. Seconds later Liza was visible through the one-way windows on the lawn of the industrial park, trying to swing on one of the large, nautically themed boat chains that roped off the parking lot. As she yanked one of the nagging rhinestone straps back up onto her porcelain doll-shoulder, the judges were petrified with worry that the miniature disco Lolita would be spotted from the freeway by a predator on a quest for this particular banquet of perversion, who would swoop down the on-ramp and yank the spangled child into a dirty van. The girl seemed blithely unaware of such dangers and, as evidenced by the trembling of her lower lip, was apparently singing again at top volume as she jerked back and forth on the heavy chain.

Peppy Normal took a spread-eagled stand in front of the judge's foldout table with her hands on her hips. Her mouth unfolded into a glossed, yellow alligator-smile.

"She nailed it, didn't she. You know she nailed it."

"We have a lot of kids to see before we decide anything, Mrs. Normal."

"Boys, for Chrissake, it's a TV commercial, not a goddamn Nobel Prize. Just cut to the chase and tell me: did she nail it, or what?"

The colorless klatch of balding men looked at each other helplessly and squirmed in their orange plastic seats. The bravest among them spoke candidly.

"The spokes-child that the OtterWorld Fun Park is looking for . . . how can I say this . . . we were maybe thinking of a kid who is a little less sophisticated."

"You wanted Shirley Temple schtick? I thought you were looking for talent."

Liza had given up trying to swing on the sunbaked chain and was now pressing her nose and forehead against the tinted window. Peering in, she could make out her mother violently gesticulating at the cringing group of men. Two of the judges glanced miserably out the window at her; her Nude Beige pancake makeup had made a small figure- 8-shaped smear on the smoked glass. Liza saw her mother grab her oversize, gold-buckled handbag and storm out of the room. Knowing her cue, Liza smiled and waved goodbye through the window again and tottered through the grass toward the car...

Colors Insulting to Nature
A Novel
. Copyright © by Cintra Wilson. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Meet the Author

Cintra Wilson is a pop culture pundit whose column for and collection of essays, A Massive Swelling: Celebrity Re-Examined as a Grotesque Crippling Disease, have garnered her a cult following. An award-winning playwright and screenwriter, she has seen her work produced by Tim Robbins's Actor's Gang theater company in Los Angeles, Naked Angels in New York, and MTV, where her creation Winter Steele was a long-running segment of Liquid Television. She lives in New York City.

Brief Biography

New York, New York
Place of Birth:
Chico, California
G.E.D., 1984; attended San Francisco State University

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Write a Review

and post it to your social network


Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews >

Colors Insulting to Nature 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Cintra has crafted an amazing story, nutty and tragic and hopeful. The colors maybe insulting to nature but they're dazzling nonetheless.
Guest More than 1 year ago
great read if you want to laugh and reconnect with the pastime of reading a book.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Just finished the ARC and while the ending was kind of predictable, the rest of the story was interesting and entertaining. The settings are colorful and descriptive but some of the better parts of the story involve the characters Liza and her family employ at the theater. Those characters stick out and are enjoyable to read about.